


The Victim or The Perp

by Wtchcool



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wtchcool/pseuds/Wtchcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver knows Laurel’s doing her job. And what’s strange is he doesn’t resent her for it. In fact, if he wasn’t sitting on the witness stand right now, he might even be proud of her. </p><p>Written for the following prompt (not mine, for a change): Oliver on the stand<br/>During Moira's trial, Oliver must testify about something that implicates himself in other crimes or about something that happened 'on the island'. Maybe he tries to take the 5th, maybe he tries to talk around it, but eventually it all comes out.<br/>Gen or Olicity please, shocked but supportive family(Walter!) would be nice. Maybe some media presence</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own.

        There was no help for it, not after Laurel had torn apart Thea on cross and dropped the little bombshell that their mother had (once, a very long time ago) had an affair with Malcolm Merlyn.

 

        Moira needed another character witness, and that meant Oliver taking the stand. Direct examination seemed simple enough: he testified as to what a great mother she’d been to him and Thea, what a terrific job she’d done of raising them. He hadn’t considered that what he was doing was called ‘opening the door’, but he could tell Laurel was waltzing through that door now.

 

        “Mr. Queen,” Laurel addresses him formally, as if they’d never dated, let alone slept together. “You went missing for a few months after the bomb went off. Where were you?”

 

        “Objection, relevance!” Moira’s attorney calls, rising to her feet.

 

        “I think it’s just as relevant as his sister not being able to face their mother until—”

 

        “Alright,” the judge interrupts Ms. Lance. “Objection overruled. Continue.”

 

        “I—”

 

        “May I remind the witness he’s under oath?” Laurel prompts him, ready to preempt another of his lies.

 

        “I was on an island.”

 

        “Which one?”

 

        “The one that I was stranded on for five years,” Oliver replies, keeping his eyes on Laurel. He doesn’t want to see the expressions on his family’s faces. He can imagine Thea and Moira wouldn’t take this news too well. _Christ,_ and Walter had shown up in the gallery, too…

 

        “The same island that’s given you flashbacks?” Laurel asks, doing her best to cover her own surprise. The flashbacks she’d discovered after being present during one of them—not pleasant—but she clearly hadn’t expected Oliver’s answer. Rookie mistake; she’d been taught as a 1L in law school you never ask a witness a question you don’t already know the answer to.

 

        “Object—”

 

        Laurel talks right over opposing counsel.

 

        “You would sooner return to a place of traumatic memories than face your own mother after what she’d done?”

 

        “It’s complicated,” Oliver affects a shrug. “The island is actually not that bad a place when you have a way off of it at your fingertips,” _and after you’ve cleared out the horde of ninjas_ , he adds silently. “And anyway, I didn’t go there to avoid my mother—”

 

        He went to try to outrun his grief over Tommy’s death; he could say that, he knows it’s a sore issue with her, he could push her buttons the way she’s been pushing his.

 

        But the thing is he knows she’s doing her job. And what’s strange is he doesn’t resent her for it. In fact, if he wasn’t sitting on the witness stand right now, he might even be proud of her.

 

        She continues firing questions at him.

 

        “You testified on direct that your mother did a good job of raising you, correct?”

 

        “Yes…”

 

        “So you’ve never been arrested?”

 

        “Objection!”

 

        “Overruled,” the judge replies.

 

        “Maybe once or twice,” Oliver answers.

 

        “Drunk and disorderly ring any bells?” Laurel asks.

 

        “Sounds about right.”

 

        “How about assault?”

 

        “…I’m really not the same person now that I was before the island,” Oliver replies. He can barely remember the incident she’s referring to; it was probably contemporaneous with the drunk and disorderly, not that he hasn’t committed assault innumerable times since then.

 

        Hell, that’s not the half of it, he has more blood on his hands than his mother does, if anyone should be on trial here it should be—

 

        “Objection, Oliver Queen is not the one on trial here!”

 

        Has Oliver missed a question?

 

        “Wrap it up, Ms. Lance,” the judge admonishes the prosecutor, rather than sustaining the objection. Moira’s attorney chooses to sit down, rather than pursue the issue.

 

        Laurel has gotten closer to the witness stand.

 

        “You’re exactly what you were before the island—a good for nothing play boy that couldn’t care less about what happens to the people of this city. Your mother must be so proud.”

 

        “OBJECTION!”

 

        “Sustained; Ms. Lance, do you want to be held in contempt?”

 

        Laurel shakes her head; then heads back towards her seat.

 

        “No more questions, your honor.”

 

        “Re-direct?” the judge asks, and after receiving the answer in the negative, “you may step down, Mr. Queen.”

 

        Oliver nods. A look at the audience proves to be a mistake. Thea has tears in her eyes; Walter looks just shy of anguished. He’ll have to avoid them for days.

 

        Later, outside the courtroom, Laurel tries to apologize for her behavior on cross. Oliver brushes away her apology; tells her it’s not necessary.

 

 He’s not sure which of them was hurt more by the experience.


	2. Hang On In There

            Thea finally corners him while the jury is deliberating.

 

            “Oliver, would you stop avoiding me?” she demands. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re not the only one that that bitch preyed upon.”

 

            Unlike her brother, Thea feels no sympathy for the assistant district attorney. She is furious. The fact that she once counted Laurel among her friends only sharpens the betrayal, the knowledge that she once reported to Lance makes her grateful her community service is behind her.

 

            “Could you not call her that?” Oliver winces. “She was just doing her job.”

 

            “The hell she was! Don’t go making excuses for her!”

 

            “I’m not—”

 

            “Yes, you are. You _cannot_ still be carrying a torch for her after that performance earlier.”

 

            He stares at her for a second.

 

            “That’s not— I am _not_ pining for her. I’ve moved on.” He thinks briefly of his tryst in Russia, but doesn’t bring it up. He is not going to discuss his sex life with his sister.

 

            “Sure you have,” she looks dubious. “Never mind that. Why did you tell me you spent the summer in Europe?”

 

            “It seemed easier than explaining why I went where I did,” he replies, uneasy at the turn the conversation is taking. He looks at his watch and reminds himself that he doesn’t want the jury to return a verdict now.

 

            “Seemed easier for you to lie right to my face, wow, you’re unbelievable you know that?” she glares at him. “What the hell were you thinking going back to that island? She said it gave you nightmares!”

 

            “They’re called flashbacks. They’re really not that…” Well, they are bad, but she doesn’t need to know that. “They’re nothing I can’t handle,” he settles on. “And I wasn’t exactly shipwrecked this time. I was able to pack everything I might need,” he says, trying to imply that he had all the comforts of home with him this time around.

 

            She doesn’t buy it.

 

            “Oliver,” she sighs. Her tone carries noticeably less anger, though still plenty of exasperation. “If you weren’t ready to face Mom, you know that I of all people would understand, but you could’ve gone anywhere else to do that. For instance, you could have actually gone to Europe,” she enunciates this slowly, as if it will make it easier for the words to penetrate her brother’s thick skull.

 

            “That’s not it. I told the truth on the stand. I didn’t go to get away from Mom. I don’t blame her for what happened.”

 

            “…Then who do you blame?” she questions.

 

            “Myself,” he whispers. Unable to meet her gaze, he digs out the phone he managed to smuggle past courthouse security. This would be a really good time for Diggle or Felicity to call with a distraction. Regrettably, there have been no missed calls or texts. _Damn it._

 

            “I don’t understand,” Thea frowns in confusion. “Why would you blame yourself? You weren’t involved. You didn’t know what was going on.”

 

            He stops looking at his phone and pushes his gaze at a spot on the wall above the brunette’s shoulder.

 

            “I was there the night Tommy died. I saw him before…” He takes a deep breath. “I was there and I spoke with him _and I couldn’t save him_ ,” he confesses, before his throat grows too tight for him to continue.

 

            Thea gapes at him for a moment. She is profoundly grateful there are no cameras around for what she’s about to do.

 

            “Oh, Ollie,” she pulls him into a hug. In a moment, she’ll have more questions, like: is he trying to say he was around when CNRI collapsed and if so, how did he avoid getting hurt? But for now she can just be there for him.

 

            The moment is shattered as her brother’s phone rings. He pulls away, checks it, tells her it’s the office and he has to answer it.

 

            After a minute or so on the phone, he tells her he has to go to Queen Consolidated right away.

 

            “You can’t just leave now!” she protests.

 

            “I have to, it’s an emergency. Call me if the jury comes in, okay? Otherwise, I’ll see you later.”

 

            And with that, he’s gone, leaving her on her own to worry about their mother’s fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is thanks to the request from DangerouslyHappy for more.


	3. Love’s a Crime

            “Thea said you disappeared for a while last night.” Moira’s voice remains casual, her gaze steady on her son’s face. The two are in the sitting room of the manor.

 

            “Right, there was an emergency at work,” Oliver waives off Felicity’s call of the previous evening, warning him of the psychotic villain in their territory. “But I did make it back in time for the verdict,” he points out, leaving the ‘ _no harm, no foul,’_ left unsaid.

 

            “At work,” Moira repeats. “So that would mean you were at the office around the time Count Vertigo fell out of your window.”

 

            For a change, Oliver’s flashback does not involve the island at all. For one moment he’s back on the witness stand, being grilled by Laurel.

 

            He forces his attention back to the present. His interrogator this time may not be an attorney, but she’s no less calculating. He’s reminded that this is the woman that took over as CEO of a multinational corporation during Walter’s absence.

 

            “I don’t understand, Mom. What are you saying?” Even if he can no longer get away with the dumb blond act, he can still fake confusion.

 

            “I’m saying that I know that it’s not a coincidence that you and the Arrow both disappeared right after the Undertaking and both reappeared right when we needed you the most.”

 

            _Well,_ she reflects, _maybe that’s not quite right._ She could have used her son by her side during the early days of her imprisonment, especially since she had been snubbed by both Walter and Thea at the time. Back then it had seemed that the only person who would stick by her was her attorney.

 

            “I don’t know about the Arrow, but I already explained that I was on the island,” Oliver does his best not to grit his teeth. The key, he knows, is to remain outwardly unaffected.

 

            “That’s where you learned how to use a bow and arrow, isn’t it?” his mother asks. Her voice has gone soft. “To hunt game, perhaps, or to just stay alive.”

 

            _To kill_ , Oliver thinks, before being assaulted by the memory of a powerless Slade Wilson receiving an arrow to the eye.

 

            _They’d realized that they didn’t need to choose between giving Slade the cure and killing him. The one would make it easier to accomplish the other._ He’d killed Slade in cold blood, adding to the deaths on his conscience before he’d ever returned to Starling City.

 

            _Tommy was right; Detective—no,_ Officer _Lance was right_. He was a killer…

 

            “That island helped forge the person you are today,” Moira continues. “And after…what happened, you needed to go back there to remind yourself who you are. I understand that,” she lays a hand on his arm. “And I want you to know that I’m proud of who you are. I couldn’t be more proud.”

 

            “You’re proud?” Oliver can’t help it; he quirks an eyebrow. “Didn’t you once shoot the Arrow?”

 

            Moira frowns as she withdraws her hand.

 

            “I hadn’t figured out your secret at that point and, to be fair, you had broken in to my office and were holding me hostage at the time. I was afraid for my safety and for your wellbeing. You should have known I would act in self-defense, dear.”

 

            “Oh, my mistake,” Oliver shakes his head, incredulous that this conversation is taking place.

 

            “You will notice, Oliver, that none of that would have happened if we hadn’t been keeping secrets from each other. We have to be truthful with one another from here on out.

 

            “I wouldn’t have confronted you about your secret if I didn’t have to tell you something. You didn’t kill him.”

 

            “I know I didn’t set off the earthquake device, but Tommy would still be alive if—”

 

            “No, I wasn’t referring to Tommy, although this lingering guilt of yours is unfounded. Oliver, Malcolm Merlyn is still alive. You didn’t kill him.”

 

            The breath leaves Oliver’s lungs in a rush as he tries to process this bombshell.

 

            “What are you talking about?”

 

            “He waylaid me on my way home after the verdict last night. He wanted me to know he was alive, that he,” she steels herself for the admission, “that he corrupted the jury. He’s the reason I was acquitted.”

 

            Oliver knows he should reassure his mother, to persuade her that even without Merlyn’s interference she would have been acquitted anyway. But he’s a bit too preoccupied with trying to grasp the fact that his nemesis is out there and has apparently been biding his time for months without anyone on his team being any the wiser.

 

            “What does he want?”

**Author's Note:**

> Story title from Michael Friedman’s “Love’s a Gun.”
> 
> Un-beta’d. Quibble away.


End file.
